The wind whistled across the bleak moorland bringing the scent of autumn with it, but if Silk’s nearly nude form felt the chill she gave no sign as the silks of her persona rippled around her. Overhead, constellations never seen in the real world wheeled and danced as the host accepted data from Silk’s own network and spun it together to mesh with the Citadel’s own architecture.

The pattern was nearly complete…after six years… it had been too long but she was honest enough with herself to know that to try this sooner would have ended in disaster, no matter how much she wanted the truth behind the web she had unravelled.

Aria’s petite form appeared beside her unbidden “you could have done this on your own host you know? No need to use my resources so heavily”

“Yes, but who would look for it here in a game world rather than the files of an up and coming data broker?”

Aria conceded the point with a bow and a wink “So, you’ve found out who was responsible for Mother’s death, your mother, now what?”

“Find Monarch and find out why that bastard targeted one of his best teams for removal”

Aria looked uncharacteristically sad “You know they say ‘be careful what you wish for’, you may not like the answers that you find”

“True, but they would be better than no answers. I know running is dangerous, mum didn’t expect to live a long and happy life… but this wasn’t a stray bullet in a fire fight… she was executed, by her own bloody fixer. What part of the Pattern is that? We will dig him out of his hole and ask him some rather pointed questions. Once I’m satisfied we’ll dump him on the authorities and let them have their pound of flesh.”

“You don’t want to kill him then?”

“I’m not stupid, that won’t bring mum back and I think I will get more satisfaction from watching him rot, denied access to his power base…”

“Let’s get out of here… it’s cold!”

***

And so Silk reached out to Al, itinerant wonderer, and more importantly for her purposes, a nexus in the Pattern…his actions were so hard to predict, hopefully they would not see them coming.

<<Al, it’s Silk. I promised you a job in the near future and that time has come. I know you won’t like it but can you assemble your team and meet me in the Citadel? I would prefer face to face but you’re scattered across Europe and this needs to move quickly now. I am hoping you can get Isaint, Deckard and Robyn together for this. The Old One has told me some of what happened in London, I don’t know who you were working for or how you managed it but you make a formidable team>>

[Thursday September 10th, 2076; dilapidated Caravaner on bank of the Thames]

Al was demonstrating to an enraptured Spike how to eat a Double-Soyrito without taking the cigarette from your mouth when his working 'link - the Fairlight - started playing Me So Horny, signalling a message from Silk.

Well, work. And not a damned moment too soon, he having nearly depleted his stash on luxury excursions and military-grade explosives.

<<See what I can do. Make it witchin' hour Greenwich.>> he replied.

Then he composed a voice message to all three requested parties, layered on as much encryption as he could, which was not half bad, then sent it direct to Robyn, with a request she protect it more and deliver to the other two.

The message: <<Attached the dets onna fancy-pants game host in Seattle. Silk uses it fer virtual meets. Requests the presence of the four of us as and when, but soonest. I'm gon' tell 'er midnight GMT. Be there or be square, mi compadres.>>

Isaint was just putting away the broom when his commlink beeped. Not the Transsys but the Fairlight - that meant work. The timing was excellent he had to admit: Whatever could be cleaned in his new home had been cleaned, all furniture was installed and/or constructed and even the drones were all nice and clean in their charging stations. There would have literally been no excuse to put off looking for a job or calling his chummers.

Upon receiving the message from Al via Robyn he frowned. An online meeting wasn't as dangerous as a real life one, but there were still dangerous entities around. Isaint sent a confirmation message and began preparing for the meeting - mainly by updating his matrix security and his iconography...

[Thursday September 10th, 2076; dilapidated Caravaner on bank of the Thames]

For his part, Al wandered out to the small mountain of scrap that was accumulating from all the work he'd been doing on his cars and dug around until he had the makings of a crude 'trode net, then to his shop to assemble it while he downloaded the necessary ASIST software.

And he ate another double-soyrito - better to puke in volume than dry heave. He hated dry heaving.

Robyn takes the message from Al and notes that his encryption skills seem to be improving and makes a couple of additions before sending it off to ISaint and Deckard. She is familiar with the game site as the host for the wonderfully good Vampire Hunter game. She has spent many hours wiling away the time in the alternate world of that game. Sometimes too much time. But it is so easy to just slip into her vampire lord character and exist in a completely different sort of life.

She considers something and fires off a response to Al. >>Al, I have forwarded your message on as requested. You know, I can translate the meeting and send it to you on a trid screen if you like. There would only be a second or so delay in the conversation for you and you would not have to be in the matrix.<<

It had taken Isaint a while to set everything up. He had learned what he could about the gaming host and brought his Agents up to date. Having them enter the host was a bit of a hassle, but in the end the captcha-guard let them pass. He appreciated the vampire hunter theme and had his agents take the same form as himself: A simple monk in a coarse looking black robe and a wooden crucifix. Just to be sure, he only went in AR - he really didn't want to get link-locked by anyone. Nevertheless, he had instructed Arthur to kill the connection if he went unconscious or showed signs of distress. 'Paranoia doesn't mean they aren't out to get you.'

With that he and his monk brothers made their way through the host towards the meeting place.

Al seriously considered Robyn's offer. It would allow him to sleep through the meet's more boring details - which was probably all of them. Paying attention to that crap was what they kept Isaint around for, after all.

But in the end he shot back: <<Appreciate it, toots. But Silk's my contact, and no one else has met her, so reckon I'd best "be" there.>> Even if it would be just his Fairlight's default persona, he thought. <<"See" you at midnight.>>

He played with his homemade 'trode rig for a while to see if he could minimize the vertigo effects. And then - AR or VR??? Either way he'd be puking - with AR he'd be able to use a bucket, but with VR he wouldn't feel a thing until later, and he had his failsafes against aspirating his own vomit. All right then, VR it would be. He knew the place as well as he knew anywhere in the Grid, so at 2359 he stripped naked on the floor of his workshop, laid down on a plastic tarp, and took the plunge...

Robyn enters the gaming host some time before the meet to get in some play time and to not stir up any real questions as to why she is there. Her Vampire Lord is part of a large guild of characters and has achieved enough rank to garner Prestige Access to the guild mansion and she walks about in her avatar form, leaving in time to get to the meeting site.

Al navigated straight to the meet spot, and there he found a Vampire Lord and a retinue of monks. The rich detail of their icons stood in sharp contrast to the featureless black humanoid default persona provided by his Fairlight Caliban. In person, he might have touched a shoulder or shaken hands, but he wasn't about to dignify this shadow existence with any suggestion these were real bodies. "Toots," he said, nodding to the vampire, and "Boss," nodding at the lead monk. "Where's our fourth?" he wondered, idly scratching at his ass - what? - he tried again - no, seriously - eight grand for this piece of crap commlink, and the persona didn't even know how to respond to a simple ass-scratch command?

Utterly exasperated, he opened up a window to the graphics code and started jiggering lines here and there while they waited for Rick. And of course Silk.

Robyn's avatar is a startling contrast to her meat body. She appears to be human and stands almost six feet tall. Her garb is demure, but is some of the finest game clothing available, with all sorts of hidden Prime bits that greatly amplify her stats and abilities. The voice has a soft Slavic accent, go figure, but has a high Charm Quality to it. She long ago got rid of her obvious weapons, instead relying on magic and pure physical power to defeat her enemies. Over the years, Robyn has used this avatar to get through every level and all the various raids and group arena combats. She is a very skilled combatant and now spends time helping shepherd new players through the harder scenarios. She looks at the monks near her and smiles. "Welcome ISaint. Have you been part of this universe long?"

Robyn looks over at the rather amorphous creature that Al has selected as an avatar. "Al. the Vampire Hunter character that you have selected can be a powerful foe of the darkness, but it takes a while to get to where it is really strong. I know that you have little interest, but if that should change, I would be glad to assist you in mastering this alternate reality."

The hooded monks turned to Robyn and shook their head and spoke in unisono: "First time that I come here. I have always preferred the real world vampire hunt and also very little time for playing. I guess a sleep regulator allows you to keep up with so many activities.And no, I haven't heard from Rick. But I've been busy getting set up here near London again. Our two unfortunate chummers are in good hands now by the way. The Jesuits are taking good care. Under caution that our conversation might not be as private as we wish, how are you two? Have you worked out your... issues?"

"Issues? What issues? Hippies got issues. Me an' sweet cheeks here, we's thick as thieves," Al answered evasively, his persona still flailing its arms jerkily as he tried to make it scratch its ass. "Only issue we got is toots here thinkin' ol' Al'd take any better ta virtual gamin' - or virtual anythin', fer that matter - than a rainbow trout ta the sands o' Death Valley...There!" and with a flourish he completed his coding to allow the persona to not only reach its own posterior but perform a range of other crude and uncouth gestures.

The vampiress shakes her head. "There is a lot of down time in my life between contracts and I can always squeeze a little time for some game play. My life has not been as complicated in the past as it has been lately. Neat trick with the cloned monks. I am glad that you were able to get our friends to some sort of treatment."

She nods at Al's words. "Yes, there are some personal things to work out, but this is business, right?"

From out of the gloom you hear a musical chuckle and Aria’s diminutive icon, dressed as a mini vamp natch, glides into view. She looks at you all sideways and tuts at Isaint’s army of digital goons before waving a tiny and admonishing finger

“Not allowed in here! Spoils everyone’s fun…” and with a clawing action she does something to their code “permission revoked!” before turning a beaming smile on you all. “Right, follow me please, we haven’t got time for the grand tour but I think some of you have been here before?”

For Robyn this brief exchange is a revelation…Aria is the whispered owner, creator of the Citadel game host, judging by the quality of sculpting on her persona icon she has used the resulting wealth well…that or she’s a technomancer!

She leads you to a darkened corner of the hall where huge black drapes conceal whatever is behind. Swishing them effortlessly aside Aria reveals a glowing planar portal like the one you’d stepped through to reach this game zone… “This way…”

***You emerge into a very different environment…from the gothic halls of vampiredom you find yourselves on some sort of bucking troop dropship, wind howl drowning out the throb of the vector thrusts that you can nevertheless feel through the hull.

Aria hasn’t followed you through, instead you find Silk waiting for you, bracing herself lightly against the sway of the deck. She’s dressed in combats with a rifle slung across her chest. The grin she gives you reveals her sharp teeth and her joy at the wild ride.

“Welcome! I’m glad you could come at such short notice! I’ll provide you some intel and then if you are interested I will let you know the details…? About two hundred clicks south south east of Tonga in the South Pacific there’s an aquaology. Inside it there’s an individual that I very much want to speak to, and I assure you it isn’t mutual. If you are up for it we’ll steal a series of access codes from an offline server in the corp’s base on Tonga and then proceed to the site. Yes, I meant we, I’ll be coming with you…”